


Mos Maiorum

by soczab



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slytherins Being Slytherins, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soczab/pseuds/soczab
Summary: Two years after the war, and the Wizarding World is awash with change. Reformers and zealots seek to destroy centuries of Pure-Blood traditions. Legacies are overturned. Potter and his friends are everywhere victorious, and no one dares stand against the rising muggle-born tide. This is the world that Blaise Zabini, newly selected for the Wizengamot, finds himself in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Since I’m a believer that people should know what they are getting into. This is a political based HP fanfiction set a couple of years after the end of book 7. It is primarily from the POV of Blaise Zabini. Harry and friends will play major roles and hopefully stay true to their canon personalities, but will serve as the antagonists not the heroes. 
> 
> My goal is to explore the politics of the Wizarding World. Something I always enjoy in fics, but often find poorly done. I also want to try and show the politics/world from a different perspective. Hence Zabini. I’m also a strong believer that POV and Lens colours how people and actions are viewed, so keep in mind we have a flawed protagonist with this story. Just because Zabini thinks a certain way doesn’t mean we the reader don’t know he is wrong. 
> 
> This will be an AU in the sense that events will quickly go sideways and so the Epilogue will not be plausible. It ‘branches’ off on the premise that Mrs. Zabini gets married for an 8th time, securing her son a Wizengamot seat through the marriage. There are a few ‘relationships’ planned in the story since adult characters will have those. However, these are not the point of the story. You can essentially for defacto purposes consider it a “general” story as far as relationships.
> 
> TLDR: Assuming I can pull it off, you will like this story if you enjoy lots of politics and seeing how a flawed POV shades interpretations. I wanted to try and do something a little different (always a challenge in such a popular and well traveled fandom). Hopefully I somewhat succeed.

**Mos Maiorum**

“Nothing is more unpredictable than the mob, nothing more obscure than public opinion, nothing more deceptive than the whole political system.”  
― Suetonius

** Chapter 1**  
  
Blaise did his best to keep a disinterested sneer on his face as his mother fussed over his plum-coloured robes. Experience had taught him that to try and stop her only made matters worse.  
  
“There.” His mother finally leaned back. “Much better.”  
  
Blaise sent her a deliberately bored look. He hated when she fussed over him.  
  
She frowned at that, reaching out to grip his chin, dark eyes boring into his. “Blaise Zabini. You will not make that face with me. You will not ruin this day. Smile”  
  
Blaise wrenched his head out of her grip, taking a deliberate step back. “Yes. Yes. I know.”  
  
“Do you?” His mother drew herself up, sending him an imperious look. “You may be holding your father’s seat…”  
  
He scowled. “Step-father.”  
  
“Your father.” Her voice was ice. “Dear Edan is trusting you with his seat while he recovers from his… illness…”  
  
Blaise snorted. His latest ‘father’ had been far too ill of late to do anything save what his mother wanted. And like as not he would never recover. And even before his mysterious illness, Edan Corbis had been over ninety and not the fastest broom in the shed.  
  
“Watch yourself…” His mother’s tone was going from ice to a truly dangerous level.  
  
With a sigh Blaise straightened, forcing himself to take the situation semi-seriously. “I of course appreciate the trust Ethan is placing in me.”  
  
“Edan” she corrected him without pause “knows you are up to the trust. As do I. Why, if you do well, I’m sure he will formally adopt you before long…”  
  
Blaise resisted the urge to sigh again. He’d barely exchanged half a dozen words with his mother’s latest husband. From what Blaise understood the man had been impoverished with little to his credit except his name and his hereditary Wizengamot seat. Knowing his mother, she had likely married him simply for that seat. They had money, now she wanted the respectability. He didn’t doubt that the ‘adoption’ papers were already signed, and the will updated so that Blaise would formally inherit the seat when the time came.  
  
“Blaise.” His mother had a put upon expression now. “Sometimes I don’t understand you. Isn’t this what you always wanted? You were always so interested in your little political games…”  
  
Despite himself, he felt his frustration boiling over at her dismissal of all his ambitions and plans. “I wanted it. Me. In my own right.”  
  
“And now you have it.” Her tone said he had better appreciate it too.  
  
Had it from her hand. If he was honest that’s what smarted. Much as he loved her, it chafed. But he chose his words with care. “And is it mine? Truly?”  
  
“Of course, dear.”  
  
“To do as I please? To play my… games?”  
  
Mercurial as always, her anger flipped to amusement as she reached up to smooth his hair. “Of course. Everything I do is for you. Always. You will do our name proud.”  
  
He sighed. And there it was. With his mother what mattered most was appearances. She wanted the prestige of a son in the Wizengamot. It wasn’t about the power, but the legitimacy. “Yes Mother.”  
  
She leaned back, pleased now that she had his acquiescence. “Think on it. When we fled from Italy, your grandfather had naught to his name but the clothes on his back and the pure-blood in his veins. And now look? My son. My boy. In the Wizengamot.”  
  
“A proxy…”  
  
She waved that away. “Details. Temporary details. The Wizengamot.”  
  
“Yes mother.”  
  
She nodded. “Now. Back straight. Smile Blaise. Appearances matter.”  
  
He forced a smirk.  
  
She gave a head shake. “It will do.”  
  
“I should be away… Theo is likely waiting for me.” Truth be told, he was rather eager to leave. Partly, though he wouldn’t admit it, he truly was excited at the opportunity the Wizengamot presented. Partly, if he was also honest, there was only so much of his Mother’s presence he could take at a time.  
  
“Nott.” His mother would never do something so pedestrian as sneer, but her face somehow gave the impression. “That weed.”  
  
“My friend, mother.”  
  
She waved a dismissive hand. “You can do better. For a pure-blood scion to carry himself like that? All hunched over and made of naught but skin and bones? It tells of bad breeding.”  
  
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “The Notts can trace their bloodline back centuries. His father…”  
  
She cut him off. “Don’t get me started on the father. Worse than the son. Just as stringy and a fool as well. He didn’t have the brains to avoid the recent unpleasantness. And what did it get him? An early grave.”  
  
More to the point, Nott Sr. had shown himself resistant to all her charms. There had been a brief time after his seventh step-father’s death, when the Dark Lord was ascendant, where Blaise had truly worried he’d be forced to call Theo brother. Thankfully the old man had proved untempted by marriage.  
  
Which was the real source of her dislike, though his mother would never admit it. And she’d never forgive it either  
  
Not that he was foolish enough to ever say that aloud, or point out that their own neutrality in the war was due more to luck than a deliberate plan. Instead, he tried a different tack. “And now Theo sits on the Wizengamot himself, despite his father. And if the Dark Lord had won? Few would have been in a better position than the Notts.”  
  
“Ifs and buts.” She gave a dismissive hand wave, despite that Blaise knew for a fact that when the Dark Lord had looked to be victorious she had regularly leveraged his friendship with Theo for favours from the old man.  
  
“Still.” She continued after a pause. “I suppose he’s better than some of the rif-raff making fools of themselves these days.”  
  
“Yes Mother.”  
  
She shot him another amused look at his bland answer. “Ohh go already. Go have fun Blaise. I’m proud of you.” She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead before shooing him out of the room.  
  


————————————————————

  
  
Theo finally slouched over just as Blaise was finding his seat in the back benches.  
  
“Zabini. You made it I see.”  
  
Blaise sent Theo a small smile, pleased to see his friend. “Nott. I made it? You’re the one cutting it close.”  
  
Theo sneered. “Doesn’t matter. These days they don’t even bar the doors to late comers if you can believe it? People come and go the whole session.”  
  
“That’s no excuse for us to act as uncivilized cretins.”  
  
Theo smirked. “And now you sound like your mother…”  
  
Blaise let out a short bark of laughter. “Now that’s harsh. I had no idea…”  
  
He cut himself off as an elderly witch in the traditional plum robes walked by them to her seat, pausing to give her a polite nod and greeting.  
  
Theo continued once she was past. “You’ll find that the Wizengamot isn’t what you expected. What it once was.”  
  
He glanced around the largely empty room. He doubted there were even forty witches and wizards present. Barely a third of the body in attendance if he counted right. “It does seem rather… empty.”  
  
Theo snorted. “If so many of our generation didn’t find themselves with seats due to the war, it likely would be even emptier. We haven’t become jaded like the older lot yet.”  
  
“That bad?”  
  
Theo gave a shrug. “You’ll see. We’re nothing but a rubber stamp these days for Shacklebolt and Granger.”  
  
His eyes widened. What? “Granger?”  
  
But his friend shushed him before he could say anything further. Old Tiberius Ogden was on his feet, starting up the session.  
  
“…Promise to uphold our duty as the…” Blaise was tuning the old man out. He knew the opening ritual by heart. He was more interested in one of the late comers slipping in, just as Theo had predicted.  
  
He nudged his friend, giving a subtle point with his head before whispering. “Draco?”  
  
Theo leaned in, whispering even lower. “Potter spoke at his trial. Got him off. He’s got his father’s seat now.”  
  
Trust the Malfoys to always land on their feet. Absently, Blaise wondered how Draco had managed it. He didn’t think Potter was the sort to be bribed by the Malfoy fortune. Perhaps a political favour? It would bear watching.  
  
“…And thus declare the Wizengamot open, may all conduct themselves accordingly!” With a rap of his gavel, old Ogden was back in his seat.  
  
For a long second there was silence, and then unbelievably Hermione Granger was in the room and on her feet. “Chief Warlock, I ask to be recognized…”  
  
Blaise had to remember his decorum to keep his mouth from dropping open. What on earth was some Mudblood teenager doing speaking in the halls of the Wizengamot? His head whipped around to stare at Theo, a question clear in his eyes.  
  
His friend’s face twisted up in distaste as he leaned in to whisper. “I did warn you. She’s Potter’s proxy. He lets her sit in. Her and Shacklebolt have been pushing… well… watch…”  
  
Theo fell silent as Granger, now recognized strode to the center of the hall.  
  
“Honorable Warlocks of the Wizengamot…” Granger was leaning forwards, business like and formal, body tense, as she spoke fast and clearly. “This body has been delaying a vote on Article 1232 for three weeks now. I know I speak for all of us, including Minister Shacklebolt, in deploring this delay. After the atrocities of the previous administration, it is imperative that this body clearly shows that the current government of the Wizarding World will leave behind all forms of prejudice and bigotry. The precedent set by Article 106 has been a stain on this body since the Twelfth Century, and it is time to…”  
  
Confused, Blaise stopped listening as Granger proceeded deeper into legalese and turned again to his friend. “Article 1232?”  
  
Theo’s distaste deepened. “Passing a law removing the ban on Muggle-borns holding permanent seats in the Wizengamot.’  
  
Blaise let out an aghast hiss. “They can’t do that!”  
  
He realized he’d spoken too loud when an elderly witch a row ahead twisted around to shoot him a glare. Lowering his voice he leaned closer to Theo. “They can’t do that. You have to be able to trace your lineage back at least five generations to hold a permanent seat. Everyone knows that.”  
  
Sardonic amusement coloured Theo’s whisper. “Had. Not have. It’s a new age. Behold our new overlords.”  
  
“There can’t be enough blood traitors to ever vote for such a law…” Blaise hissed back.  
  
Theo gave a head shake. “You’re being naive. Ohh, Potter and Granger have their supporters, however most probably secretly agree with you. But speak against our Chosen One? They wouldn’t dare. Watch…”  
  
Granger was finally falling silent and sitting down. Blaise waited for a senior member to step up and put the Mudblood in her place.  
  
Instead, he saw Neville Longbottom of all people getting to his feet. The boy looked much more confident than Blaise remembered him. “I have to agree with Hermione. In this day and age, to have such a law on the books makes me ashamed to sit in this body. A Wizard or Witch’s worth is determined by their deeds, not their blood.”  
  
Blaise winced at the informal tone being set by Longbottom. The man was a Pure-Blood for Merlin’s sake. He should know better. He leaned towards Theo again, still not believing what he was hearing. “Next thing you know, they’ll want the Wizengamot elected.”  
  
Theo gave a low snort. “I’m sure that’s on their agenda to get to eventually…”  
  
Blaise felt his horror rising. What was happening? This couldn’t be the Wizengamot he had always dreamed of joining. Selling out and bending to the whims of the Ministry and a Muggle-born?  
  
Old Oak Lyptus got to his feet, and Blaise held out hope for some sanity. The man was from an old and respectable line.  
  
Oak shot an ingratiating smile towards Granger, and Blaise felt his heart sink. “Thank you so much for speaking here Hermione! It is always a privilege to see our young heroes stepping forwards. The next generation taking up the burden of leadership! You of course have our full support. Please do tell Mr. Potter that he can count on the Wizengamot!”  
  
Granger inclined her head. “Thank you Warlock Lyptus.”  
  
Blaise felt like gagging. Somehow it made things worse that Granger was remembering to use the correct formal addresses that the Pure-Bloods were ignoring.  
  
Blaise kept waiting for someone to speak up and say the obvious. But Wizard and Witch after Wizard and Witch continued to speak in the laws favour. Most clearly didn’t even care about the law, and were more concerned with sucking up to Granger. Granger of all people!  
  
Finally, unable to take it any longer, Blaise surged to his feet. Absently he felt Theo scrambling at his shirt cuff as though to pull him back down, but he ignored it. Someone had to speak.  
  
“Blaise Zabini?” Ogden half asked and half announced. “Ahh. Yes. Proxy for Edan Corbis. You may have the floor.”  
  
“Warlocks of the Wizengamot!” He made his voice snap, trying to will his conviction into it. “I speak *against* bill 1232.”  
  
A low murmur of disbelief and shock went through the stands. Blaise felt his face heat slightly at all the attention, and blessed his Mediterranean colouring that kept it from standing out. He took a moment to master himself, and for the muttering to die down, before pressing on.  
  
“My fellow Warlocks… Warlock Granger…” how he hated giving her that title… “speaks of prejudice and bigotry. But that is not the root of our traditions! If it was…” a little misdirection seemed fitting… “we would not let Muggle-borns serve as proxies! Warlock Granger’s very presence in this room shows that our laws are not rooted in bias. But a permanent member of this august body is required to trace their ancestry back, not out of some form of prejudice, but because it shows they can be trusted. It shows their family has served the Wizarding World for generations! That they are familiar with our culture and history, and thus can make informed decisions. This body is trusted with making decisions that will impact our world for generations. We need members rooted in our history to do that properly!”  
  
A couple of heads were nodding, but more were shifting in their seats and avoiding his eyes. He could feel he wasn’t connecting. Desperately he tried shifting gears. Perhaps a little flattery.  
  
“I look around this room, and I see many Wizards and Witches I respect. Warlock Ogden, Warlock Marchbanks, you bring years of experience and knowledge to this body. I see, as Warlock Lyptus mentioned, many heroes of our recent difficulties such as Warlocks Longbottom and Macmillion. I look around at this body, and what makes it stand out are the illustrious and knowledgeable names! Not just anyone can hold a seat in the Wizengamot. We are the best of the best.”  
  
“Are we elite?” He paused and then sent his voice booming across the the room. “Yes! Yes we are! And we should be proud of that I say, not ashamed.”  
  
And with that Blaise fell back into his seat, feeling oddly drained and exhausted from the passion he had poured into the speech.  
  
Next to him Theo sent him a sympathetic look, but then gave a small subtle shake of his head.  
  
Across the chambers, Granger was on her feet, again being recognized by Ogden.  
  
“Thank you Warlock Zabini for that… passionate… view point.” He felt himself tense up at the obvious contempt and disgust in her voice as she addressed him.  
  
“I fully agree with your sentiment that the Wizengamot must be held to a higher standard and represent the best the Wizarding World has to offer…” Her voice cracked like a whip as she continued. “And if the recent war showed us anything, it is that this standard is not connected to blood. That was the stance of Voldemort…” half the room flinched… “and his thugs. Deeds not blood determine worth! And I call on this body to show they reject the prejudices and evil of a darker age!”  
  
A few more wizards and witches asked to speak, all essentially echoing Granger. Blaise could tell the room was well and truly lost. After what Granger had said, a vote against the bill would feel like a vote for the Dark Lord.  
  
Finally Ogden rapped his gavel, summoning the attention of the room. Getting to his feet, the old man addressed the body. “Warlocks of the Wizengamot, a vote has been called. All those in favour of Article 1232 and the revoking the ban on Muggle-borns holding permanent seats in the Wizengamot?”  
  
A slew of hands went up. Easily enough to carry the vote.  
  
“Opposed?”  
  
Defiantly, Blaise raised his hand. He’d be damned if he backed down. He sent Theo a glare when the other man made no motion to join him, causing his friend to sigh and finally raise his hand. But Blaise could see only two or three others joining them. Even Malfoy seemed to have abstained, not raising his hand aye or nay.  
  
“And Article 1232 passes.” Ogden wrapped the gavel again.  
  
And thus, with shockingly little fan-fair, Blaise watched as centuries of tradition got overturned with a gavel strike. He still couldn’t believe it. Everyone had just meekly rolled over at a harsh word from Granger. Granger of all people! And like that, they seemed poised for all the rif-raff and dregs of the Wizarding World to flood their halls?  
  
The rest of the session passed in a blur of insignificance. With impatience he listened in as the Wizengamot weighed in on various departmental disputes in the Ministry and a minor court case dealing with run-away Niffler that some poor sap had let lose in a Muggle shopping district.  
  
What Blaise couldn’t get over though, was how the entire Wizengamot kept fawning over Granger. The witch didn’t always speak, but whenever she did the entire room was falling over themselves to agree with her. It was disgraceful.  
  
He’d known Potter and his friends were ascendant. That Shacklebolt was essentially a Dumbledore lackey. But he hadn’t realized it was this bad. That all opposition was essentially silenced. And stranger still, not a word of this in the papers? Where was the outrage? He needed more information.  
  
As soon as the session ended, Blaise cornered Theo. He wasn’t quite so plebeian as to manhandle the man, but still he had questions. And damn it, but Theo was going to give him some answers.  
  
As soon as they were behind closed doors with some modicum of privacy, he turned to his friend. “What. Was. That.”  
  
Theo gave a weary shrug. “I did try to warn you. Shacklebolt and Potter have the government in their palms.”  
  
He let some of his frustration into his voice. “Potter’s still a damn Auror trainee!”  
  
Theo gave another shrug. “But he’s Potter. Ohh I don’t doubt Granger and Shacklebolt are the brains of the operation. But today? That’s the norm. No one in the Ministry or the Wizengamot is going to cross the Chosen One’s friends.”  
  
“This can’t be allowed to stand! Why is none of this even being printed? All I read in the Prophet are trite stories about rebuilding the Ministry and Potter’s love life.”  
  
Theo snorted. “Why do you think? After their…” he searched for the right word… “perceived bias in the war, the Ministry is keeping a close eye on the Prophet. Besides, bureaucratic laws like this don’t strike a cord, people prefer to read the latest quidditch scores or speculation about Potter and the Weasley girl.”  
  
“Someone has to do something! Say something!”  
  
Theo shook his head. “Who? In all honesty, *you* shouldn’t have said what you did. It’s a different world Blaise. It’s not in vogue to stand for tradition. Worse, its political suicide. Why isn’t the opposition doing something you ask? What opposition I say!”  
  
Blaise ground his teeth, then had a sudden horrifying image of his mother’s reaction to that and schooled his features to impassivity. “Then there needs to be an opposition.”  
  
“And I say again, who? And don’t say ‘us’! I’ve no desire to put myself at odds with the minister. I push too far and like as not they’ll haul me in on some trumped up trial for my father’s crimes. That or bleed the estate dry in ‘restitution’”  
  
“They wouldn’t dare!” Blaise was outraged. Was this what they had come to? Threatening the child with the father’s crimes?  
  
Theo was sardonic though. “Wouldn’t dare? Who’d stop them?”  
  
Blaise forced himself to calmness. Honestly thought it over. “We have to do something.”  
  
“And I said…”  
  
Blaise cut him off. “No. Nothing stupid. We’re not Gryffindors. I agree, with hindsight… with hindsight I shouldn’t have spoken today.” It hurt, but it was true. “It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.”  
  
Theo cocked his head. “Then what are you getting at?”  
  
“We need...” Blaise paused, considering his words. “We need to change the dynamic. Somehow. We need to make opposing Granger and the Ministry not about Potter. Or the Dark Lord. We need to stand by tradition of course… but perhaps… a new message.”  
  
Theo seemed intrigued. “Yes. But easier said than done.”  
  
“Still.” Blaise straightened. “What’s the alternative? Do nothing? Hope we somehow survive? Watch the Wizarding world be overrun with Mudbloods and their ilk?”  
  
Theo looked amused. “Best not throw ‘Mudblood’ around if you’re looking to cast this opposition in a new light.”  
  
Blaise waved that way. “Obviously we won’t use the term in public. And we’ll need a wider base than our old crowd too…”  
  
“We don’t even *have* the old crowd let alone wider support…”  
  
Blaise leaned forward. “Well, we’d best get started then…”  
  
He could tell Theo was intrigued despite himself. But it wouldn’t be easy. And they really would need wider support. But after the farce of this morning? Blaise would be damned if he just sat back and didn’t try.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Blaise deliberately lounged back in his chair as he observed the gathering before him. To an outside observer, it might seem like a homogeneous bunch; all young Slytherin Purebloods fresh out of Hogwarts. Beneath that surface though? There were plenty of cracks and rifts if you knew where to look.

“Draco. Darling.” Pansy gave an overly sweet smile to hide the blazing anger Blaise knew she was feeling. “You must be so overjoyed now that the trials are officially done. It must be a load off your mind not to have to worry about Azkaban.”

Draco kept a deliberately bland face. “Indeed. The stress on Mother…”

Pansy’s smile went even wider and faker. “Ohh yes. Your mother must be so pleased. After all, most of us who had family members with the mark weren’t so lucky…”

Draco arched a single eyebrow. “Luck? No. I simply wasn’t foolish enough to Crucio a street full of Muggles in full view of a dozen wittinesses…”

“You… you…” Pansy was practically screeching at that provocation, leaping out of her seat with wand in hand. Things might have gone even further south if Daphne hadn’t been there to pull her back.

Which was half the reason Blaise had invited Greengrass of course. Anyone who spent half an hour with Pansy in the last month knew she was outraged at Draco getting a pardon while her own father rotted in Azkaban for the use of the Crucio on some muggle rif-raff. Pansy’s reaction was as predictable as Draco’s taunting.

She wasn’t alone in her feelings to Draco though. Half of the Pure-bloods in the room were seething in anger at the man. Jealousy that he had somehow gotten off free, while their own families rotted in prison. The other half, of course, were more impressed that Draco had managed to pull it off.

Theo heaved a sigh. “Was that really necessary, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s sneer deepened. “I didn’t come here to be questioned or lectured by the likes of you Nott. Or Parkinson.”

Theo spread his arms, but Blaise could see that his eyes were sharp with interest. “Well. You can’t blame us for being curious. The only marked Death Eater to get out of Azkaban? It’s not like the last war, they’ve been cracking down hard. And yet you have Potter… *POTTER* of all people speaking for you? A man can’t help but wonder. What do you have over Potter?”

Malfoy deliberately didn’t answer, superior sneer frozen on his face.

Theo leaned in, going for the kill. “Or maybe it’s what Potter has over you? Is that it Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed in anger at that, his fists tightening. “Watch it Nott. I owe Potter nothing. NOTHING!”

“Kids!” Marcus Flint gave a low rumble. “C’mon now. No point in fighting. We’ve all got better things to do.”

Terence Higgs gave an amused smirk. “Well Flint. Some of us do. Didn’t I hear you were blackballed from the League? What was it again? ‘Banned for in-appropriate language not in keeping with the values of British Quidditch?’ No Quidditch for you anymore? What on earth do you *do* with all of your free time?”

Marcus let out a rumbling growl. “Those Mudblood loving fools.”

Montague gave a sniff, nose pinched. “The league’s gone to the dogs.”

Blaise caught Theo’s eyes and shared an amused look. He was sure that Montague had been harping about the ‘good old days’ back when he was a first year.

Marcus smashed his fist on to the table hard enough to make the wood creak ominously. “Banned! For calling out a bunch of Blood Traitors?”

Higgs arched an eyebrow and prodded at his former Quidditch rival. “I’m sure they would have looked the other way for a truly *elite* player.”

Marcus’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch it, Higgs.”

Montague gave another sniff. “Honestly Terence, you know Flint is right. Like as not they didn’t want to risk a Pure-blood showing up their precious Hufflepuff and Half-blood charity cases. It’s the same everywhere these days. Blood and breeding is ignored every time some Muggleborn tells a sob story about bruising their knees in the war. I thank Merlin my father didn’t live to see the day.”

And that was about about as good an opening as he was going to get. Blaise leaned forward, tensing his body and waiting until all the eyes in the room were slowly drawn to him. “And that’s exactly why I asked you all here today.”

Draco tilted his head. “Yes. And why *did* you ask us all here today? Charming as the company is...” he cast a long look at Pansy… “perhaps you had better get to the point.”

Blaise shot a quick glance at Theo to make sure his friend was ready and then leaned forward, spreading his hands and drawing them all in. “Isn’t it obvious? What was it Montague said? Society is going to the dogs.”

Theo took that as his cue. “The old order is being over-turned everywhere.”

Blaise inclined his head towards Flint. “Honest wizards and witches denied their livelihood based on their Pure-blood.”

Theo shot Pansy a sympathetic look. “Pillars of society thrown into Azkaban with shams of a trial.”

Blaise turned to Goyle, who had been sitting silently behind Malfoy. “Our friends and family vilified, their graves disrespected, all for their stance in the war.”

Theo nodded agreement. “If Potter and his lackeys have their way, Blood will soon be worth nothing.”

Malfoy’s face twisted into an odd grimace at the mention of Potter. An expression Blaise couldn’t quite place. Everyone else was quiet as they pondered his words.

When it became clear that he was done speaking, Daphne finally cleared her through. “All true Blaise. But that doesn’t answer why we are here.”

He gave the girl his most winning smile. “Why, to do something about it of course.”

A low ripple of unease went through the gathering at that.

Terence Higgs licked his lips nervously. “Do something? Do you mean… that is. What do you mean?”

Flint had a truly evil smirk on his face. “What do you think? Nothings wrong that a few good curses wouldn’t fix.”

The uneasiness in the room deepened, and Higgs was shaking his head. “Are you insane, Marcus? I wouldn’t throw a jinx at Potter, let alone a curse. The man… the man is…”

Blaise shot Flint a quelling look. “Higgs is perfectly correct. Unlike the Mudbloods, *we* are perfectly good law abiding citizens. There will be no curses thrown.”

Flint scowled at that, but some of the tension leaked out of the room.

Daphne was shaking her head though. “Then I ask again, what do you mean to do?”

Blaise nodded. “Look around this room? What do you see?”

Montague blinked, as though noticing the rest of them for the first time. “Why, I say. We do have the right sort here, don’t we? Not a half-blood amongst us.”

Malfoy looked like he would roll his eyes if it weren’t too plebeian. “No. you fool. He means the Wizengamot.”

“You’re both right.” Blaise lifted his hand and started counting off his fingers. “My own seat. Nott. Malfoy. Goyle. Parkinson. Higgs. Montague. Flint. That’s eight seats. Daphne, you often proxy for your father. As does Vaisey… whom I’, sure would support us if his old Quidditch friends asked it of him. So ten if we can convince them. Ten seats… all held, as Montague said, by the right sort.”

Malfoy crossed his arms. “Ten seats isn’t anywhere near enough.”

Goyle frowned at that, like a good lackey. “Yeah. The Wizengamot has… has… a lot of seats.”

Nott sent Goyle a mocking look. “Yes. Eighty is a lot.”

Malfoy shook his head. “The point stands. Eighty is too many. Even if only half that number are showing up these days, the ten of us don’t represent anywhere near enough to carry a vote.”

“And we don’t have to.” Blaise watched them all shift in confusion for a moment before pressing on. “Look. Eventually we will need to win votes. But as we all know… things are in very bad shape. We aren’t going to turn the dragon around in a day.”

Theo was nodding. “Ten votes may not be enough to win, but it is enough to show there is real opposition.”

Daphne looked thoughtful at that. “But to what end?”

“Look.” Blaise paused, searching for the right words. “Right now? Most decent Witches and Wizards deplore the way Potter and his friends are going about things. No one *likes* seeing centuries of tradition overturned. Sure, the Mudbloods may all be on board. They don’t know any better. But everyone else? They’re just going along. Either because they are scared of what will happen if they don’t, or because Potter and Shacklebolt are on top, and they want to be as well.”

Theo nodded again. “That’s even more true in the Wizengamot. Ohh, there are a few blood traitors. And Potter has his worshipers. But most? Like Blaise said. They’re just decent Wizards and Witches afraid of sticking their necks out.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “You want us to give them cover.”

Blaise smirked. “Exactly! There is safety in numbers. Right now, if a Wizengamot member stands up to Potter’s little band? They’re exposed and alone, and will suffer the consequences. We would provide cover. They are freed to vote as they should, because now they are just one among many.”

Malfoy still did not look convinced. “Except now *we* are the targets.”

Flint gave him a nasty look. “Worried, Malfoy?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. But the point still stands.”

Blaise made a calming gesture. “A valid concern. The key here will be *not* to cast ourselves in opposition to Potter and the Mudbloods.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Which, yet again, means we don’t call them Mudbloods.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Yes, yes. Theo is correct. In public, we praise Potter. The Mudbloods. The Blood Traitors. The whole lot of them. Anytime anyone asks you a question? Talk about how Potter is a hero. How tragic the straits of the poor Mudbloods are.”

Montague blinked at that. “I say. I’m not one for the uncouth language, but that does rather sound like pandering to the lesser sort?”

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “That’s because it is.”

The room shifted uneasily around him at that, but he pressed on. Bluntness was what was needed here. “Let us make no mistake. Right now? The Wizarding World has no stomach for anything that even remotely strikes of the Dark Lord.”

Theo picked up the thread. “You said it yourself Montague. The lesser sort are pulling the strings right now.”

The wizard in question scowled. “Yes. A disgrace. If my father could see the straits we’ve come to he’d snap his wand in frustration… but I thought we were here to fix that?”

“And we are.” Blaise soothed. “But it won’t happen in a day. We need a velvet glove here, not an iron gauntlet. A soft touch. What matters the *words* we use, as long as the actions are correct? Whisper sweet nothings about Mudblood rights, how Potter is a hero… it doesn’t matter. It’s a sop. It lets the wizards and witches backing us pat themselves on the backs about how much they care.”

Theo let his smile widen. “And meanwhile, we get about the business of turning things around.”

Higgs, gave a slow nod. “I can back that.”

Pansy made a noise of agreement, followed a moment later by Daphne.

Montague had a considering look on his face. “I suppose anything is worth trying. Merlin knows things haven’t been the same since that Shacklebolt took office. I can talk with Vaisey as well. He’s a good chap and would see reason I’m sure.”

Goyle glanced uncertainly at Draco, not saying anything.

Blaise arched an eyebrow. “Draco?”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a considering look on his face. “And what, exactly, are you asking for Blaise?”

He spread his arms. “That you join us. You of all people can’t appreciate that Potter is essentially calling the shots?”

Draco simply tilted his head. “Potter calling the shots? Mmmm...”

Draco let that cryptic comment hang a moment before continuing on. That said, no I don’t appreciate many of the new laws. But what I meant, is why exactly should I let *you* call the shots?”

Theo bristled at his side. “What are you on about Malfoy? This was Blaise’s idea. I didn’t see you doing anything to stop…”

Blaise cut him off, lying through his teeth as he did. “We’re all friends here. It’s like Theo said. Someone simply has to organize things. Surely you agree with the larger point of what we’re trying to do here? You of all people can’t like seeing Mudbloods being promoted over the right sort?”

Draco seemed to consider that for a long moment. “I agree with much of what you’ve said. If I continue to agree with you… I’ll vote with you. If I do not, I will not. That is the most I will say.”

It would do. For now. Blaise didn’t bother to even glance at Goyle, knowing the man would simply follow Draco’s lead as always. Instead, he focused on Flint who was being oddly quiet.

Flint crossed his arms, an evil expression on his face. “I’d love to back you and Nott…”

Theo sighed. “But?”

Flint shrugged. “Like Higgsy said. I’m out a job… that could pose a problem if Potter’s gang looked too closely…”

He left that dangling, but Blaise knew what he was getting at. The Wizengamot had a financial requirement of its members. A certain amount of liquid or propertied wealth required to hold a seat. It was a good rule to be sure. It was how they kept the likes of the Weasleys and other rif-raff out. One needed a certain amount of financial independence to truly be an impartial official. Not like the salary-men of the Ministry. Flint was thus implying that he might lose his seat if too much attention was drawn to him.

Of course, it was rarely enforced or checked, especially for one of the Sacred Twenty Eight. Honestly, if it was enforced, half the Wizengamot would likely be panicking. Far too many old families had lost their fortunes in the war and its aftermath. So Flint’s statement was likely more a face saving way to ask for a bribe from them than it was an honest concern about losing his seat. Still…

Blaise sent a charming smile towards Flint. “No need to worry Marcus. I’m sure something can be arranged.” Unlike many Purebloods, his mother’s wealth hadn’t been touched by the war. He could an afford a handout or two.

The burly Quidditch player gave a grunt of agreement at that, clearly satisfied at having gotten what he wanted.

And that was that. Everyone was in agreement. Blaise leaned back in his chair, content to simply observe as the conversation once more drifted to the mundane and gossip.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Blaise lounged in his chair as he watched the Wizengamot proceedings in front of him. Outwardly, he was calm, even languid. Internally? He was tense as a dragon’s heartstring.

Leaning over, Theo whispered in his ear. “Today?”

Blaise gave an imperceptible nod back to his friend. A few Galleons palmed to a recorder-wizards had let slip the agenda for the day. And it was perfect. Besides, they had been waiting several days for the right moment to reveal their new little clique, but time was becoming more pressing as word was leaking out.

It was actually informative to see which members of the Wizengamot were watching him as opposed to the proceedings. An interesting tell on who was in the know and who would merely be reacting to events.

Finally Granger was on her feet, and Blaise knew this would be their moment.

The bushy haired witch cleared her throat. “Honorable Warlocks of the Wizengamot, I would like to propose bill 1234 to the floor. Which, if you will consult your packets you will find the details of…” she waved her hand as various aides began to distribute the thick folders filled with legalese.

Old Ogden gave her a fond smile. “Could you perhaps summarize the proposed law for us Warlock Granger?”

The witch gave a regal nod. “Of course, Chief Warlock. Essentially, this law would recognize that the action of the Dementors in the last war showed them fundamentally untrustworthy, and further that the use of Dementors in any capacity, official or unofficial, is an abuse of the basic human rights of a Wizard or Witch. It classifies them as dangerous magical predators, and will of course strip them from their role guarding Azkaban’s prison.”

Perfect. Blaise resisted the urge to smile. It was as he had been told.

Ogden meanwhile was bobbing his head and smiling ingratiatingly. “Thank you Warlock Granger. Informative as always!”

Oak Lyptus was on his feet, with a buttery smile of his own for the Mudblood. It made Blaise want to gag, but he kept silent as he watched the old man talk. “Ms. Granger! What a wonderful idea! I say again, the Wizengamot is lucky to have witches such as yourself looking out for our well being! I couldn’t agree with you more. Nasty creatures, Dementors.”

Slowly, Blaise got to his feet waiting until he was recognized. A small murmur went around the room as those who were better informed leaned forwards to watch him speak. He noticed Granger was one of the ones in the know. She had her brow knotted, and a displeased look on her face as steady eyes regarded him.

Blaise waited until he was recognized, and then slowly turned to the Assembly. “Honored members of the Wizengamot, I must oppose this law…”

Granger’s eyes narrowed, her voice clipped with scorn and disbelief. “You oppose the removing of Dementors from Azkaban?”

Blaise, instead of answering, turned to Ogden, raising an eyebrow and waiting.

Finally, after a long and uncomfortable moment, the Chief Warlock cleared his throat looking faintly embarrassed as he avoided Granger’s eyes. “Please, no interruptions while another Warlock has the floor.”

Granger’s mouth was a thin line as she retook her seat. “Of course. My apologies Chief Warlock.”

The old man gave her an overly kind smile that made Blaise sick to his stomach. “No worries Ms. Granger, a minor matter.” Ogden then turned back to Blaise, a disapproving look back on his face. “Please continue, Warlock Zabini.”

Blaise waited a beat before pressing on. “As I was saying. I oppose the removal of the Dementors from Azkaban. And why should I not? I agree, they are vile creatures and lesser beings compared to us wizards. We can all agree on that, can we not?”

He paused to let a low murmur of agreement echo around the room. Though Granger seemed even angrier at that comment for some reason. No matter, Blaise pressed on. “But they have guarded our prisons for centuries with a sterling record of success. Far better, I venture, than any Auror could manage. Even vile creatures have their uses to proper Witches and Wizards.”

He paused again at that before spreading his arms dramatically. “But it more than tradition that causes me to say keep the Dementors in Azkaban! Can they be cruel? Harsh? Yes! But think about who those prisoners are! They are the scum of our society! Traitors. Criminals. Death Eaters!”

A low murmur went around the room as he stressed the words ‘Death Eater’ and Blaise waited for it to die down before continuing. “These Wizards and Witches are the scum of our society! Dementors are inhumane you say? I say they are a fitting punishment for the likes we have in Azkaban! Think of your children, my fellow Warlocks. Your Grandchildren. Will you not sleep safer at night knowing that these criminals are being guarded by Dementors?”

As planned, Flint got to his feet immediately after Blaise was finished, a viscous snarl in his voice. “I’m with Zabini! No mercy for criminals!”

Susan Bones spoke next, worrying her bottom lip. “I… I understand where Blaise is coming from. No one likes Death Eaters. But, Dementors? Just. No. My Aunt… she always said they were the worst sort and…” Susan trailed off and sat back down. Blaise watched her with interest. She was no ideological friend of his, and a half-blood to boot… but she also didn’t seem very sure of herself. An opportunity perhaps?

Longbottom was much more strident in his objection though. “Dementors are torture. And we are not torturers. They have no place in a civil society.” The man scowled at Blaise. “And besides, it seems awfully odd that you are so concerned about keeping Death Eaters in prison…”

Granger gave a single sharp nod of her head, but this was the opening he had been hoping for. Blaise was on his feet at once. “Chief Warlock! I demand the opportunity to answer that insult!”

When the man gave a weary nod of his head, Blaise turned to Longbottom and schooled his face into a believable imitation of anger and outrage. “Warlock Longbottom! That statement is completely inappropriate for a hero such as yourself! We cannot live in a society where we cast aspersions of anyone who disagrees with us! I for one demand that you apologize for that slander! Some of us find it far more concerning that an individual would care about the well being of a Death Eater!”

Nott was on his feet next, as planned. “I agree with Warlock Zabini. We must keep our prisons secure! My own father was a Death Eater before his passing. To the shame of our entire family! A dark stain on our honor! And I for one am honored to stand with Warlock Zabini in opposing this law. It is because of my father’s mistakes that I know better than any the importance of punishing those men properly.” His eyes narrowed in a dramatic fashion. “And of not falsely throwing around accusations of ‘Death Eater’ in a room of debate!”

Blaise stifled a small smile. Nott had played it perfectly. Neither of them gave to shits about the Dementors of course. But the more faux outrage shown at removing them, the harder it would be later to tar them with the label of sympathizing with Death Eaters. And how much harder was it to call someone a sympathizer with the Dark Lord, or a secret Death Eater, when they publicly called out their own father as one? A page right from Crouch’s book. The man might have been a narrow minded fool, but despite being a rather conservative Pureblood with a Death Eater son no one had ever dared accuse him of being a Pureblood bigot. Not after he had turned on said son.

The debate raged on, with Blaise’s supporters speaking up for him, while Granger’s lectured them on the evils of Dementors, and the rest of the Wizengamot watched the debate like it was a tennis match. Honestly, it was probably the most fun and controversy they had seen since the war ended.

Finally, Granger was acknowledged by Ogden again. Her eyes radiated anger, but her voice was cool and steady. “Chief Warlock. This debate has turned circular and distracting. And I find myself disappointed. We did not fight a war to punish, but rather to assure that our world would be free of bigotry, unfairness, and torture. Dementors are not a fate I would wish on my greatest enemy. But worse, they are creatures of darkness who cannot be trusted. For all this talk of Death Eaters, Dementors themselves flocked to Voldemort…” the room flinched… “These creatures have no place in our society. Chief Warlock, I ask you call for a vote!”

Granger’s lackeys all burst into applause at that, and then another round as the sycophant of a Chief Warlock agreed with her.

The vote went as expected of course. A landslide victory in favour of Granger. But Blaise was mostly pleased. The outcome was better than he had expected. Twelve votes against Granger. No where near enough to win, but a first step. Some outside of his little faction had even backed them, which was pleasing and good progress.

Less positive was that Malfoy had voted against them. *Against.* With Goyle following his lead as always.

Blaise meant to corner the man as soon as the vote ended, but it was impossible as a small mob had gathered around him and Theo.

Old Selwyn was the first to approach him, looking stately and almost regal. “Zabini?” The man waited for Blaise to acknowledge him. “I’ll be watching you closely young man. I thank you for an… interesting morning.”

He was followed by Mervin Bulstrode, one of the other Wizengamot members to vote for him, and Mr. Greengrass who shook Blaise’s hand firmly. “Blaise. I’m so glad you’re doing well. Daphne was most adamant that I should give you a good listening to, and I have to say she was right…”

Zabini might have answered further, but was prevented by his compatriots coming up behind him. Flint slapped him on the back hard enough that he stumbled, and Hicks had a huge grin on his face.

Blaise took in their compliments while making eye contact with Nott. His friend slipped away from the gathering, making a beeline towards those members not in their clique who had seemed sympathetic to their cause. With luck they could plant some seeds there.

Finally, with only moderate effort, he managed to extract himself from the well wishers. He needed to find Draco, and thankfully the man had not gone far. Just around the corner near the main room.

“Malfoy.” He kept his voice icy.

“Zabini.” Draco had a studied look of relaxation. “Something I can help you with?”

Blaise reigned his temper in at that feigned ignorance. “I’d like an explanation of what you were thinking with that vote.”

The man raised a single eyebrow. “I thought that obvious. I disagreed with your argument.”

Blaise gritted his teeth. “And I thought we had an understanding…”

Draco finally dropped the nonchalance at that, leaning forwards. “And I thought I made it clear I would vote as I thought best. Dementors in Azkaban? My *father* is there, you fool. And you expected me to vote for them?”

“It was never passing!” He glanced around and brought his voice down to a more moderate level. “It was never going to pass. We all knew that. Why do you think we voted for it? It wasn’t about Dementors in Azkaban. It was about presenting a united front. Showing there is a genuine opposition! *AND* showing we don’t support Death Eaters.”

Draco’s eyes were flinty. “I *was* a Death Eater. That level of hypocrisy I can not stomach. And I don’t give a Hippogriff’s dung about your little clique.”

“You’d prefer Potter then? That’s your only other choice!”

Draco drew himself up. “You’re obsessed with Potter…”

Blaise couldn’t help but snort in disbelief at that. “That’s a bit rich coming from you of all people Draco…”

Draco sneered. “I’ve better things to do then waste my time worrying over that idiot. Or over you. If I agree with your bill you’ll have my support. If I don’t? You won’t. Good day.”

Draco turned sharply on his heel, wand in hand as he marched down the corridor.

Blaise watched him withdraw, a pensive look on his face. Draco hadn’t been the same since the war ended. It was almost enough to make him wonder if Theo was right and Potter had some hold on the man.

His musings were cut off as Theo himself appeared at his elbow. Blaise turned to him, arching a single eyebrow. “Any Luck?”

His friend shrugged. “Some perhaps. I laid the groundwork for you to build on anyways. What about Draco?”

Now it was Blaise’s turn to shrug. “I’m not sure. He says he will support us if he agrees. But. Clearly we can’t count on him.” He paused to consider things for a moment. “Perhaps its time to see if we can’t pry Goyle away from him…”

Theo snorted. “Goyle? The man doesn’t have a mind of his own. He couldn’t tie his own boots without Draco.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. The war strained their relationship. Its worth trying at least.”

Theo waved it away. “If you say so. But we’ll need a lot more than him and Draco. It was a good day… but as things stand, I’m not sure we have enough wiggle room to *ever* actually win anything…”

“Not as is… but… it is a start.” Blaise paused to watch the other Warlocks filing out of the room now, eyes settling on one Half-Blood witch in particular. Yes, she might just be perfect for what he had in mind. “A start. I agree we won’t ever truly win without shaking things up a bit more. And I’m not satisfied with just being the opposition. It may be time to start taking some risks…”


End file.
